In Our Rajah's Service
by Angrybee
Summary: Far from home, Hakim's four whimsical companions share adventures while in the sometimes perplexing, sometimes disheartening, and sometimes magical city of London. They definitely have their own opinions about this new world they've come to see!
1. Chapter 1: We Go Out

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction, and not intended for profit.Our thanks to the creators of Victorian Romance Emma for such a lovely story.

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In Our Rajah's Service

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Chapter One: We Go Out

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We are always being told that we look alike. We do not think we look alike. We do not really understand why the English say this about us. Then, we realized that many of the English look alike. We decided that perhaps a person can only recognize a certain number of facial features outside of their own culture. We are not insulted anymore.

But, we are very glad that our Prince brought us to England. At first, we did not like the city. There's a black haze everywhere, and you end up with soot in your hair and your clothes. We felt sorry for the people who lived in the city. We are more used to it, now.

The Jones house is nice, though. Our Prince doesn't always like it so much. He says that the air suffocates him. It's not as nice as the palace at Jaipur, certainly. But, for a vacation, it is alright. We do not think the Jones family pays proper respect to our Prince as a guest, but we forgive them, since they are just English, and can't be expected to behave correctly.

Yes, there is so much we don't understand about the English. We're trying to learn more, though, because our Prince says that knowing the English will be important in times to come, and we wish to help our Prince do important things.

We are four. Indira, Ilpati, Inika, and Indali. We were raised to please Prince Hakim. We could not possibly wish for more. We shall never be less. We are his confidantes, his entertainers, his bodyguards, and his companions. Our world is Prince Hakim.

Our Rajah is our life.

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Our Prince is melancholy, again. We are worried about him. It is that woman, the maid, Emma. At first, we did not like her. We thought she would take away our Prince. But, she did not wish to take away our Prince. She broke his heart, but not really. Prince Hakim stepped aside to allow Mr. Jones his chance, since Mr. Jones knew Miss Emma first. If Prince Hakim was not so gallant, Miss Emma would have eventually been his.

People do not turn down Prince Hakim so easily. We've never seen someone say "no" to him twice.

Then, we started to think. It would not be so bad if our Prince were to marry an English woman like Miss Emma. We could teach her how to dance, and perhaps she would teach us more of the English language. If she had children, we could help her care for them. Perhaps there would be a little golden-haired boy like Colin Jones. We like the poor, scared, little Colin. So sweet. So small! We wanted to ask Prince Hakim if he would get us a little golden-haired English boy to keep at the palace. But, we have not asked him yet. We will wait until he is not in such a melancholy mood.

Yes, our Prince is melancholy. Indira will rub his feet. Ilpati will handle the hookah. Inika will turn the pages of his book. Indali will sit at the ready, in case our Prince should need anything. He smokes slowly, thoughtfully. We feel for him, but all of our efforts are to no avail, these days. We can not amuse him. We feel terrible when we fail our Prince.

There is a knock on the door. It's Stevens, the older English manservant. We like Stevens very much. He's come to deliver an invite to Prince Hakim to play tennis with the family, again.

We've already decided to put a tennis court in at our quarters in Jaipur. Then, when there are English visitors, we will engage them with sport. We do not know the rules of tennis, yet, but we shall learn.

Stevens leaves, and we don't even get to play with him. We like his moustache. It's bushy and prickly underneath.

Prince Hakim stands up. We help him get dressed for tennis. We've heard that English ladies grow faint if they even touch a man on his wrist or hand. But, this is our Prince. We must be helpful to him. He is handsome, surely, but we find it odd to think that only a man should be allowed to help a man dress. We have seen him naked many times. He has a fine physique.

"You may have the afternoon," our Prince says. He is kind to us, this way. We are never overworked. We are encouraged to take in all the things we see, and to learn from our experiences. "I'll have Stevens make the carriage and a guide available to you. Go into town and buy the things you require. And more tobacco for my hookah, as well."

Indira takes the English money offered by our Prince. Ilpati fetches his tennis racket. Inika holds the door open, and Indali puts away the hookah. We don't wish him luck out loud, but he knows we do wish for it. We try not to talk unless Prince Hakim asks us a direct question, or seems to desire conversation. We don't want to disturb his train of thought.

After our Prince is gone, we tidy up his room and retire to ours. Oh yes, the Joneses have provided us a little room next to our Prince's. We mostly only spend time in there when our Prince is out, or wants to be alone. Usually, we sleep just sleep in his room.

Indira holds up some of the bills to the window. "How funny they look."

"What shall we buy?"

"English things."

"But, which ones?"

"Hmmmm." We all think about it. We do not really want for comforts. Perhaps Prince Hakim would find it amusing if we dressed up as English ladies.

"But the dresses," Ilpati says as she looks into a hand-held mirror.

"There's so much fabric."

"We might trip."

"Terribly uncomfortable."

"Hmmmm."

Perhaps the only way to find out what to buy is to go see the shops.

There's a knock on the door. Inika answers it. There's a girl there, in a simple dark blue dress. She has a rather flat sort of hat with a few daisies tucked into the brim. "Beg pardon, misses. Mr. Stevens said you required a guide around the city? I'm Betsy Alister, the housekeeper's niece, and I will do my best to assist you."

We don't catch all of her words. Our English is not very good yet. We've been picking some up, though, from our Prince and from other people in the Jones house.

Indali reaches over and touches the daisies on Miss Alister's hat. Indira touches the black button on Miss Alister's cuff.

"She's younger than Miss Emma."

"No, older."

"Prettier, though."

"No, more plain."

Miss Alister looks confused. We suppose she knows less of our language than we know of hers.

We usher Miss Alister inside and sit her in the straight-backed chair. It's the only one we don't have covered with pillows and silks and our things. No one wants to ever sit in it, except the English. They have very good posture, these English.

Miss Alister sits, her hands in her lap, blinking at us like a scared monkey.

"There's a chill, we should wear the blue silk sarees."

"With the white embroidery."

"Rajah likes those."

"He has good taste in things."

We get dressed. A sari is comfortable, but we enjoy our usual outfits better. There's too much fabric on a sari, and you have to be careful not to tear it when dancing or playing, especially the ones that are made of expensive silks.

Miss Alister looks away as we dress. Her cheeks turn a deep pink. The English women do this quite often, we've found. We think it is because they wear constrictive clothing, and do not move around quite enough.

"My bracelets..."

"My hair..."

"My sandals..."

"My perfume..."

It takes us a while, since we so rarely wear our sarees, but we are soon ready to go. Ilpati and Inika take Miss Alister by the wrists, and we steer her into the long hallway. Sometimes you have to push these English, just a bit, or they will dally far too long. We're not rough with her, oh no, but we are rather excited about going to the city.

There's a carriage waiting, a severe black monstrosity with grey burlap curtains in the windows. This is the carriage Stevens uses when he must go to town to take care of Mr. Jones' business dealings. We've seen other carriages, of course. The one Miss Vivian and Miss Grace use is white with decorative moldings. It has a top that comes down, and red velvet on the seats. Nice, but not as elegant as riding a well-trained elephant. Perhaps someday the Jones family will come to visit Prince Hakim. We will let them ride on our best elephant, not just one we loan out to trusted servants.

Nearby, there is a man to drive the carriage. He's wearing brown pants, a vest, and a terribly wide smile. We like him already. He pets one of the horses, and then comes over to open the door for us. "Nice day for it, isn't it, ladies? I'm Davy, and I'll be takin' ya into town. Anyone in particular you'd like to go?"

His voice is deep, but friendly. We think he's as old as Mr. William Jones, maybe just a little older. Indali inspects his lapel. The material is so coarse! Ilpati peeks at the horses. They look strong, very sturdy. We're not worried. Davy takes good care of his horses. We like a person who takes good care of things.

"I believe we're going shopping, Davy. Would you mind taking us to a place with a good number of different shops? I'm not quite sure what they'd like to buy." Miss Alister climbs into the carriage and then holds out her hand to help Inika inside.

"Not very talkative, are they?"

"Seems not. Well, perhaps they're just shy, don't you think, Davy?"

Davy takes his cap off and scratches his hair. He looks at us for a while, and then shakes his head. "Don't look very shy." Once his cap is back on, and we're all inside the carriage, he closes the door.

And then, we're off to town.

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In Our Next Chapter: The girls go shopping in downtown London, and have an interesting conversation with their hostess.

A/N: According to the web, you can spell it "sari", "saree" or several other different ways. I've chosen "sari" for the singular and "sarees" for the plural.


	2. Chapter 2: We Go Shopping

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Chapter Two: We Go Shopping

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The carriage bounces and lurches, but not at all like the rhythmic and  
predictable sway of an elephant. It bounces more like the Ganges,  
unsettled all at once, then smooth for a time, then upset once again.

Miss Alister keeps her gaze averted, always staring out the window with  
this dull look in her eyes. Sometimes, we've noticed, the English get  
this way around us. It concerned us so dreadfully that we asked Prince  
Hakim about it. He said it wasn't because the English don't want to be  
our friends, but because they don't know how to go about being friendly  
towards us. They opt to be distant rather than chance being accidentally  
rude.

"Miss Alister," Davy calls back, "Would you prefer Lowther or the  
Burlington? I fear the Opera Arcade, despite its obvious charms, might  
be a bit much for our guests."

We watch as Miss Alister puts one of her hands on top of the other. She  
squeezes her bottom hand, and frowns a bit before replying, " Burlington,  
Davy, if you please."

We four crowd around one of the windows and peer at the world of the  
English through a dusty pane of glass. There are grand houses here, much  
like the Jones house. We then pass an open area, with a lovely field of  
flowers and many bushy trees. Davy takes a turn down another road, and we  
pass a rather large estate with brilliant windows and stone moldings.  
In front of it, people seem to be wandering about... But, it is strange,  
because even the women appear to be in their nightclothes, and their hair  
is loose. We've only seen English women look like this once or twice,  
when we come upon maids in the hallway late at night.

They move slowly, like babes that have not yet learned the complex art of  
walking. Ilpati taps at the glass, and looks back at Miss Alister.

"Oh? That's the Brompton Hospital for Consumption." Miss Alister moves a  
bit closer to us, and ducks her head so she can see out the window. "One  
of the good works of Prince Albert."

We don't catch many of those words at all. But, we do know 'Prince'. Is  
this a place where a prince lives? How strange.

Ilpati taps at the glass again. We want to know more about this English  
Prince.

"Um, they're sick, you know? That's their morning exercise. Walking and  
taking in the fresh air, that is." We all stare at Miss Alister. She  
raises one gloved hand to her lips and coughs, then points again at the  
window. "Do you have consumption in India?"

"In India..."

"Our elephants..."

"The palace...

"Rani Madhuri..."

We say all of this in English, as best we can, and Miss Alister seems to  
understand. She nods and the dullness in her eyes weakens. "It must be  
so different from here. I've never been away from London."

How terrible. We think that if we had to live here all the time, we'd  
have dull looks in our eyes, too. They have a hard life, these English.

It is no wonder that so many of them want to come to India.

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We have arrived in a bustling marketplace set between several two-story  
buildings. There are many puddles on the street from a recent shower, and  
the hems of ladies' dresses have turned dark from the liquid grime. The  
place smells like Calcutta after a monsoon, thick with slowly-dying  
produce and water that grows more stale by the moment.

Davy helps us out of the carriage. He says something about our shoes, and  
our feet getting muddy, but we're not so worried. Feet are for getting  
muddy. We're more worried about the trains and hems of our sarees, so we  
gather up the fabric in our hands and pull them up almost to our knees.

"My goodness! How indecent!" A woman sweeps a little boy out of our  
path and covers the child's eyes with her hand. Two men who had been  
painting a sign stop and stare. One of them puts his hand over his mouth  
and starts coughing, wide-eyed.

"He's sick?" Indali asks Miss Alister. We like to try out new English  
words as soon as we learn them.

"Got consumptions," Indira adds.

We all nod in agreement. How awful. Now we understand why the English  
need such a big building for just one disease.

Miss Alister puts the tips of her gloved fingers to her lips and titters a  
bit. English women don't seem to like to laugh in a regular way. They  
hold it inside. They do the same for their sneezes. It looks painful.

We go into a store with several hats and parasols in the window. The shop  
isn't very large, but it is brimming with colorful things for English  
ladies.

"This is Avington's," Miss Alister explains, "It's a new type of store, a  
specialty shop with only things that appeal to ladies. I come here for my  
aunt, from time to time, to pick up things for the Misses Jones."

Inika picks up a black parasol with gobs of heavy fringe hanging from it.  
She twirls it a bit, so that the fringe swishes outwards. Indali holds up  
an ivory-colored lace shawl to her face, and peers through the little  
holes in the weaving. Indira gathers up a dozen hat pins and sticks them  
into her hair, so it looks like she is wearing the crown jewels of a  
maharajah's wife. Ilpati picks up a corset, wraps it around her middle.  
She sucks her cheeks and stomach in when it won't gather at the back.

"Oh dear, I didn't hear you come in, and..." An older woman in a grey  
dress with gobs of lace sprouting from every available place enters.  
She's got a very manly jaw, but little pouty lips which look as if they  
should belong to a girl of twelve. She blinks a few times, obviously  
startled by how utterly remarkable we look among all of these English  
things. We're quite breathtaking, we've been told. Finally, she spots  
Miss Alister. "Oh, Miss Alister. How nice to see you again. What can I  
do for you?"

"These ladies are special guests of Prince Hakim of India, who is a guest  
of Mr. William Jones. They decided to do a bit of shopping today."

"You don't say. Well, I'll do my best to be of assistance. Is there  
anything, in particular, you girls would like to find?"

But, we are all hovering over a strange table with wheels in the back  
corner now, gazing intently at a quite lovely set of porcelain, and  
little doilies, and polished silver utensils. It's so very charming, and  
we've wanted something like this ever since we first saw one wheeled in by  
one of the Jones' servants for Prince Hakim.

"My goodness, Miss Alister, are they hungry? They seem to be quite  
interested in my afternoon tea."

"I... I'm not exactly sure, Mrs. Avington."

How white all of the little cups are... They are so terribly delicate, as  
if they might break from the slightest touch. And the teapot has such  
tiny blue flowers painted onto it. How can they paint flowers smaller  
than our littlest fingernails?

"We want this..."

"For tea..."

"Like the English do..."

"For tea."

Mrs. Avington laughs a bit. "Well, I'll be a popped lace on a girdle! I  
didn't realize they spoke English."

Miss Alister nods, and explains that we speak a little.

Mrs. Avington says that she doesn't sell tea services, but she'll send her  
boy over to the shop where she bought hers, and get one for us. "It does  
seem right that some ladies from India should have a proper tea service.  
The best tea does come from India, after all."

We agree with her wholeheartedly! Tea is the thing which links the  
English to us, and us to the English!

We don't wish to become English ladies. No. We could never be English  
ladies. But, we do wish to be Indian ladies able to entertain the English  
when they come to the palace at Jaipur. We think this is better, yes  
definitely better, than trying to be what we are not.

Nonetheless, we do buy some stationery from Mrs. Avington. She tells us  
that every English lady has her own special sort of stationery. When you  
send a letter, she says, the sort of paper you send it on says something  
about your personality. Ladylike stationery is a sign of status.

Well, we don't mind so much about status.

We just want to write a letter.

We say goodbye to Mrs. Avington by giving her little kisses on the cheek.  
She reminds us quite a bit of Rani Madhuri, who we miss desperately. We  
make a note to send Mrs. Avington a letter in English, when we learn how  
to write some, to thank her for all her help.

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After we get the tobacco for our Prince, we do a bit more shopping, and  
find a few other things we'd like to buy. Miss Alister is very helpful,  
and she doesn't look away from us quite so much anymore. We are very  
glad.

We find Davy again, and climb into the carriage for the ride back to the  
Jones estate.

"Did you girls have a nice time of it? Next time, you'll have to let me  
take you 'round to a pub or two. Can't have a London experience without a  
bit of ale."

Miss Alister gives Davy quite the sour look before getting into the  
carriage. "David Locke, don't you dare put disreputable ideas into their  
heads."

"I seem to recall a certain someone who can hold her beer as good as any  
Irishwoman."

"Well, I never...!" Miss Alister pulls the carriage door closed. She  
looks very upset. We're not even sure what all that was about. The  
English do seem to get upset at the drop of a hat-pin.

We're all quite tired from our shopping trip, but too excited to nap.  
And, it seems a bit impossible to sleep in this lurching contraption,  
anyway, so we just look out the window. We have Miss Alister tell us all  
about the places we pass, and this seems to take her mind off of whatever  
Davy said. We like to listen to Miss Alister speak English.

Eventually, Miss Alister gets somewhat quiet, and spends a few minutes  
looking at the ceiling of the carriage. She clears her throat several  
times, as if she's getting ready to say something, but nothing ever comes  
out.

Finally, she says, "I was wondering... I mean, if it isn't too  
impertinent... I certainly don't mean to be in the least bit rude, but I  
was wondering..." Miss Alister wrings her hands. We wait. Sometimes,  
with these English, it takes them a while to get around to saying what  
they want to say. "Are you ladies...married to Prince Hakim? I mean...  
Are you his wives?"

We're all quite surprised, and utterly shocked. Married? To our Rajah?  
What funny ideas these English get into their heads.

Miss Alister relaxes somewhat, and nods. "I see. You're servants, then?"

Servants? Well, we're not exactly this, either. Not in the way the  
English define servants. We do serve Prince Hakim, but he would never  
treat us the way the English treat those who serve them.

"Not servants..."

"We belong to our Prince..."

"We're simply his..."

"Always..."

Miss Alister doesn't seem to quite know what to think about that. "You're  
slaves? How awfully dreadful! I just can't imagine! Don't you want  
your freedom?"

Slaves? This is an English word we do not know. Are we slaves? Do we  
want freedom?

Freedom to do...what?

To be free to leave our Prince?

How preposterous!

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In Our Next Chapter: The Indian ladies reminisce about their home and  
growing up when they get a letter... And then they decide to thank Miss  
Alister for helping them on their shopping trip.

Thank you to the reviewers of this story! Night Imp, Nutty Scribbler,  
imayb1, Ouatic-7, Ankhitomi, and Nibs. Feel free to make suggestions of  
things you'd like to see our Indian ladies do in the future chapters.  
Although I have a loose story in mind, I don't mind incorporating  
suggestions on this one.


	3. Chapter 3: We Get a Letter

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Chapter Three: We Get a Letter

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In the early evenings, when we can, we take our dinners with the rest of our Prince's entourage. There are some porters, and some elephant handlers, and even Prince Hakim's personal cook, Mihara. We are so glad that Mihara came along to London, or else we'd probably starve to death. Much of the English food is dreadful and bland, quite unpalatable.

They are all staying in the servant's quarters, which are in the lower section of the Jones house. Down here reminds us quite a bit of a spooky cave, and we must always remember to bring candles.

We feast on buttered lamb curry with rice, and goat simmered in walnut and apricot glaze. There are fresh dates with yoghurt and cups of lassi to cleanse our palate when we are finished. Mihara prepares a plate for us to take upstairs to Prince Hakim. Usually, he eats dinner with the Joneses, but we think he only eats enough to not be rude, because when we bring him an after dinner snack, he's still quite hungry!

As we're walking in the hallway, we pass a door which is slightly ajar. It appears to lead to a kitchen. We peek inside, carefully, and see two women rolling out large sections of dough. They have their backs to us, and seem to be gossiping.

"That room! It smells horrible. Who knows what they are cooking in there. The old Indian woman, she said it was 'curry'. My goodness, eating something that smells so strong would put your stomach into a knot!"

"I say. Have you seen those girls who attend to Prince Hakim?"

"My goodness, yes. Quite. Quite. Aren't they frightful looking? I can't believe we've sent so many of our men to a land where women dress so indecently!"

"I heard that Miss Alister took them shopping a few days back. Can you even imagine?"

"Miss Alister?"

"Oh, you know, Colin Jones' new governess. That poor boy. All that crying. Can't keep a governess."

We carefully pull the kitchen door shut, and head upstairs. We can't keep our Prince waiting! He's surely hungry. And he's probably stressed out from having to sit in one of those straight-backed English chairs. We'll give him a massage and feed him dates. That will help.

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Our Prince has a surprise for us when we arrive. Mail has come from India, and we've received a letter from Rani Madhuri. He teases us a bit, and tells us that we can't have it. He puts it down his shirt and lays on a pile of pillows on his stomach. We must dance for our reward while he eats!

We are so glad to see our Prince in such good spirits, playful as he used to be, and not so dreadfully melancholy, that we do a scarf-dance, one of our Prince's favorites. It tells the story of a warrior-Prince who had to fight a mad elephant to save his land. But, the elephant turned out to be the goddess Dhumavati, who was merely trying to warn the warrior-Prince that an enemy force was coming to kill his family. It's a wonderful tale, and a fun dance to perform.

When we finish, Prince Hakim gives us our letter. We all crowd around to read it, and Prince Hakim throws dates at our heads, and laughs. He pouts and says that we love Rani Madhuri more than we love him, but he knows it's not true. She's just very important to us.

Rani Madhuri took us in when we were young. Our fathers were all very low-ranked royalty, and when they died, our mothers undertook the beautiful sacrifice of sati, to show how much our fathers meant to them. Although sati is illegal in most of India now, some women still do this, so they do not have to live as outcasts, and are instead venerated at temples and shrines. Rani Madhuri was so moved by our mothers' actions, she took us into her care, knowing that we would be strong and faithful women like our mothers.

Rani Madhuri, herself, is one of Prince Hakim's aunts. But, she never married, due to the terrible disfiguring scars she received when she tried to protect the Maharajah from an assassin when she was a young woman. So, even though she is unmarried, Rani Madhuri is a very beloved and trusted member of the family.

Rani Madhuri taught us as if we were her own daughters. We were never wanting for anything, but we were not spoiled. We had to work hard to please our Rani. She had special instructors come to teach us dance and music. We learned massage and food-tasting, how to ride, and how to take down someone who wished to do our Prince harm. Rani Madhuri even taught us how to read and write. We had to learn all the good things which would be of use to the great Prince to whom we would soon belong.

When we were about eight years of age, the Maharajah's new palace was built, and the palace at Jaipur was given to Prince Hakim. It is good, you see, for the royalty to live apart, so that their enemies can not attack them all at once. Not that we think anyone wants to kill our Rajah, but there is always a possibility.

In order that Prince Hakim should not be quite as sad about being separated from his family, we four, and Rani Madhuri, moved into the palace at Jaipur. Before this, Prince Hakim had lived with his mother at the Ladies' Palace some miles south of Panipat.

At first, we worried about what sort of boy our Rajah might be. We did not know if he would like us, or even keep us. But, we were determined to keep Prince Hakim as happy as we could, so long as we were allowed.

But, it turned out that our Rajah was not disagreeable at all. Sometimes, he did become sad, and often seemed lonely, but he had a clever mind and a regal kindness. Sometimes, he could very much be a trickster, but his pranks were never malicious. We came to feel very attached and protective of our Rajah, who is special to us like no other.

When Prince Hakim decided to go to school in England, we were both excited and distraught. He would be so far from us, and we wondered if he would change so much that he would become a different person, or even not want us anymore. But, our Prince must have noticed, because he came to us in our room one night, and sat us all down. He said to us:

"Now I must go, and I can not bring you with me. It is important for me to learn the ways of the English, so that in the future we may continue to have good relations with them, and keep our country prosperous. I wish for you to stay here, and to take care of my palace, so that when I come home, it shall be as if I never left."

We took this very much to heart. When our Rajah left for England, we wanted to weep and confine ourselves to our rooms, but we knew that we could not. We had important things to do. Even though our Prince hadn't said it specifically, we knew that we needed to keep our eyes and ears open, and to send news to our Prince often of the happenings in our country. We secretly learned a little English, so that we could understand more what visitors might be saying. We took it on ourselves to learn geography, and to acquaint ourselves with the happenings of the world. One spring, we left the care of the palace to Rani Madhuri, and undertook a tour of our country, so that we should know what the people were doing and thinking. All of this, we decided, was the best way we could help our Prince come back to his place, and be the man that he wanted most to be.

We sent him letters often, every week. We did not expect him to answer them, for we knew that his schooling kept him very busy. But, a few times he did write home, and his letters were always cause for great celebration. We still have those letters, and they are our greatest treasure, even more important to us than our favorite elephant, Pajmun.

When it came time for Prince Hakim to return to India, we were quite excited. We knew that he must go first to the palace of the Maharajah and greet his father, and then perhaps go to spend some time with his mother. We wished so much to speed to his side, but we knew we could not. When his procession finally made its way to Jaipur, we put on our very best sarees and jewelry, and went out to greet him.

At first, we did not even recognize him! He was dressed in the foreign manner, and we thought he might be some acquaintance of our Prince's come to help him continue his studies. How amazing he looked in his grey suit and shiny black shoes! He had grown slightly, and certainly had filled out to a manlier frame. And his eyes... Those eyes... They were wiser and they had seen much of the world, we could tell.

Prince Hakim greeted our Rani, and then he greeted us. One by one, he took us each by the hand, and kissed our fingers in the way the Englishmen do. Then he said to us, "You have done well. I thank you."

We have never been as swollen with pride as we were at that moment.

We hope that we shall be forever able to serve our Prince, and to help him accomplish his goals.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Our Prince has gone out visiting with Mr. William Jones, and shall be away for a whole three days. We keep hoping that perhaps Prince Hakim will see a woman who replaces the longing in his heart that Miss Emma left, but as of yet, he has not. We wonder if we should write, in secret, to Rani Madhuri and ask for her advice. But, if the letter should fall into the wrong hands, it would be of great embarrassment to Prince Hakim, so we do not.

Our new tea service arrived some time ago, and we decide to put it to good use. We arrange our room into the best semblance of an English parlor that we can, and sit down to write our invitation.

"These English letters..."

"So difficult..."

"How strange our names look..."

"The pen smudged!"

"Hmmm!" We all crowd around. It takes several tries before we make an invitation which looks good, by our estimation. We hold it up and read it back.

"Miss Betsy Alister. Please coming tea by utmost pleasure of our hosting, this Tuesday, teatimes. Also gentle Colin for sweets bring also. R.S.V.P."

We don't know what R.S.V.P means, but we've seen it on several invitations sent to Prince Hakim. We looked at old invitations to make ours, so we know it's right. We send it off to Miss Alister's room by way of one of the Jones servants.

It isn't long before there is a knock at our door, and a little servant girl has a note for us on a silver platter. We take it, excitedly, and decipher the English words with much enthusiasm.

"Good Misses, Miss Alister would be most honored to accept your gracious invitation. Colin Jones shall be in attendance, as well. We look forward to seeing you on Tuesday for tea."

We are so excited!

Our first English-type tea with our new friend, Miss Alister.

Prince Hakim would be so proud of us.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In Our Next Chapter: The Indian ladies prepare and host a tea. They learn a little more about Miss Alister, and learn more Jones' house gossip.

Author Notes:

Lassi - Sweet drink made with curd.

Sati - The traditional Hindu practice of a widow immolating herself on her husband's funeral pyre. A woman, at the time, had worth only in relation to a man. This practice so outraged the English that they made the practice illegal. Unfortunately, it continued for many years despite the law. Women who performed sati were often raised to the elevation of cherished demigoddesses at temples, in reverence of their sacrifices and dedication.

Rani - The female version of "Rajah". In essence, this makes her "Princess Madhuri".

Special thanks to all reviewers! I'm glad you are enjoying this story. So, thank you to: Ahnkitomi, imayb1, Firebreeze, Ouatic-7, Sybel Sayrah, and Artemis Obscure.


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